


I'm not Me when You're Away

by Tator



Series: The Ghost and his artist husband [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Artist!Steve, F/M, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Russian Mafia, light Violence, mafia!Clint, mafia!Natasha, mafia!bucky, mentions of other mafias, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: “Didn’t know the Russians took in fags,” Abba sneered as he was drug up from the table.
Ivan elbowed him in the back of the head. “You’re lucky he came. Barnes might not have been so merciful otherwise.” 
or the 5 times Steve kept Bucky from doing his own dirty work and the 1 time he did it for him





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series, but can be read as a standalone without much trouble. 
> 
> So everything that you read about the mafia in this fic I totally learned from wikipedia, and for the life of me can probably not find this information again.

Gary Abba was an asshole, not like it mattered much. What mattered was that he was _Italian_ , but that didn’t hide the fact that he was a total and absolute shitbag. Bucky had been itching since he was 15 to rough the guy up a little, let him know that this _really_ wasn’t the right neighborhood to be talking shit, especially seeing as he was still very much _Italian_. So, when Bucky was 17, and life finally caught up to Abba, Bucky was just glad to be at the right place at the right time. 

Bucky and a couple of other members of his _organization_ , as he liked to call it, were all getting a few beers from a local bar. They kept the peace and some other things going in the place, so the bartender gave them what they wanted. He wouldn’t even bother to ask for a fake ID if he knew the Russian boys were in.

Ivan elbowed him in the ribs. “What the fuck, man-“

“Look, Abba’s here,” Ivan said, pointing with his beer bottle to the front door. 

Bucky turned to look and then groaned. “The fuck is he doin’ here? Doesn’t he know this ain’t his part of town yet?” Now, Bucky didn’t have a problem with the Italian families. He found that the Five Families were easy and fast to work with and stayed out of what was quickly becoming his neighborhood. The soldiers though, god, they were the worst, he thought. Didn’t listen to a goddamn thing, and were way too cocky for their own good. “Leave ‘im be, I guess. We start causin’ the bar trouble and they’ll start cardin’.” Ivan nodded.

Abba slid up to the bar, two seats away from Bucky and his guys, and called to the bartender. “I hear you guys got a pool running for the game on.” The bartender worriedly looked over at Bucky, who just shrugged, before nodding at George. “I want in.” 

“How much?”

“Three on the home field.” They exchanged some papers and the bartender went back to his job. 

Bucky didn’t care much for gambling. It was good for business, but bad for his own money. So, he decided a long time ago that he’d run a pool but he wouldn’t ever enter one. The only time he ever won a bet was when people underestimated him, but then, those bets were never for money, usually just blood. He didn’t really care who ran pools in the neighborhood either. As long as he got a cut in the end, whoever wants to join, from this neighborhood or not, didn’t matter to him. Bucky just tried to stay out of it.

But, it was hard to when certain Italians started making trouble. 

“That game was totally rigged! I’m not paying you shit,” Abba sneered at the bartender an hour or two after he made the bet. “No way a team comes back from 20 in the pocket unless somebody payed the other team to drop out.” 

“Look, man,” the bartender sighed. “I don’t care how a team wins. You gotta pay your debt.” 

“Fuck off,” Abba scoffed. 

“You can’t just bet three-“

“I said fuck off, didn’t I?” The Italian pulled a knife out of his pocket, and Bucky wanted to groan. This guy always was a drama queen.

Bucky nodded over to Ivan who sighed, but still got on the other side of Abba. Bucky stood up and walked over. “You wouldn’t be tryin’ to start any trouble, would ya?” He asked with a glare. 

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” was his response back. 

“I really was tryin’ to, but you have to come up in ‘ere and not pay my people and then you start throwing a knife around. So now, you’ve made it my business.” 

“You one of the Russian boys?” Abba stood up, eyeing Ivan and Bucky like he was squaring off for a fight. It happened a lot quicker than Bucky thought it would. Abba waved his knife like he was going to try and slash Ivan, but Bucky threw him back before he could. It seemed to only make him angrier, so this time he came at Bucky with the knife, going for stabbing instead of slashing. He nicked him on Bucky’s ribs before Ivan and Bucky overpowered him and threw him back onto a table. It didn’t break luckily. Ivan grabbed the knife out of his hand, and Bucky smashed his face into the table, holding a hand behind his back. 

“You really think comin’ into our neighborhood and startin’ a brawl is the best fuckin’ idea?” Bucky growled at him. “Things have been goin’ real well with the Five Families recently, and you think $300 is worth a total war? Shit, we might as kill you ourselves. Maybe we’ll have more mercy than your family when they get you back!” Bucky started to twist Abba’s hands further behind his back, aiming to break it, just to send a message. He hadn’t decided if he was going to let him off that easy though.

“Buck?” Someone asked from the door of the bar. 

Bucky looked up to see Steve standing there, looking a little shocked. His hair was wind swept, and he was clutching his sketchbook to his chest. Hm, Bucky thought, he must have just come back from the park or something. “Stevie, whatcha doin’ here, babe?” 

“Just, uh, just coming to say hi, but you look- you look a little busy,” Steve muttered. 

Bucky let go of Abba, only to have him grabbed by Ivan again. He heard them rustling around a bit, probably trying to find the $300, but he didn’t care as he walked over to Steve. “Always got time for you, doll,” Bucky threw an arm over the blonde’s shoulders. It was almost an awkward height with how much Steve had been growing since he’s 16th birthday a few months. He still reached over to kiss Steve’s cheek anyways, just because he liked to watch him blush. 

“Didn’t know the Russians took in fags,” Abba sneered as he was drug up from the table.

Ivan elbowed him in the back of the head. “You’re lucky he came. Barnes might not have been so merciful otherwise.” 

“Yo, Ivan,” Bucky called out from where he was sliding back to the bar, pulling Steve into the seat next to him. “Go take out the trash. I’ll buy you and my boy a drink.” Bucky called over the bartender. “Hey man, get me two more beers, and uh, maybe next time collect the money before the end of the game, yeah?” The bartender nodded. 

***

This was a fucking act of war. Bucky was livid. The goddamn Irish will not get away with this. He doesn’t care if he has to kill the entire fucking family for them to get it, but drive-by’s were not going to be the way they tried to get Bucky to agree to a deal. He wasn’t fucking scared of them. And this did _not_ make him scared of them now. This is not how you do business. 

“Who made the call?” Bucky asked. He just woke up from anesthetic, from pretty heavy surgery where they removed his arm. His left fucking arm. His voice was rough, and the oxygen tube made his nose burn. And he didn’t have a fucking arm anymore. He was 19 years old, and he only had one arm. The motherfucking Irish took his goddamn _arm_ , and he was going to kill all of them. 

“Our people think it was Buckley,” Natasha responded as she paced in front of his bed. They had known each other for a year now, but only trusted each other with business. Both of them saw eye to eye on most things, and they were working their way up in the family together. 

“Think or know?” He shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. But his entire balance was thrown off now. 

“Does it matter?” Natasha responded. “Buckley’s boys or not, the Irish are the ones responsible, and they’re going to get what’s comin’ to them.” 

“I ain’t startin’ a blood war,” Bucky grumbled. “This isn’t the fuckin’ movies. It isn’t an eye for an eye out there.” 

“No, it’s an arm for a life. We have to make a statement at the very least. Gotta let everyone know that they can’t fuck with us to get their way.” 

Bucky nodded. “It would make a lot more of a statement if we offed the right guy instead of the wrong one.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Natasha sighed, sitting on the bed facing him. “It’s going to end in a war either way, so we might as well make a good first statement.” Bucky didn’t respond and instead kept his eyes trained on the door. The heart monitors were beeping next to his head, and the more he thought about it, the faster they went. It was driving him bat-shit. “What do you want to do?” 

Bucky closed his eyes. What did he want to do? He wanted to go back in time to where he could have woken up ten minutes earlier, and not be late, and never have to get in the fucking car. He wanted to make a better deal with the Irish about stupid fucking underground casino rings so they would’ve try to kill him. He wanted to go down the Fort Leigh, and bury himself in Steve’s chest until this all went away, and take back the fight they had the last night they were together that made them start radio silence for three weeks. What a stupid question, Bucky scoffed. He wanted the fucking impossible. He wanted his arm. 

A phone started vibrating on the table next to him. “Natasha,” she answered curtly. “It’s Steve.” She said quietly, handing Bucky the phone. 

“Steve,” he muttered, not knowing if it was real or not.

“Bucky? What’s happened? Natasha called and said you were in an accident. Are you okay?” God, he thought, Steve’s voice cut through all the bullshit that was swimming inside his head. And suddenly his entire situation was very fucking real. The accident, the surgery, the hospital, all of it. There was never going back now, he thought. He also thought about how much he really fucking missed his Stevie, now especially. 

“I-I…They took my arm,” he screw his eyes shut again, not wanting the tears to stream down his face. 

“I know,” Steve muttered. “Natasha told me. How you holdin’ up?”

“How do you think?” 

“Yeah, stupid question. I know. I’m sure you’re gettin’ a lot of ‘em.”

“No shit.” Bucky didn’t know if wanted to laugh or cry right now, but either way he thought it would end up a combination of the two.

“Uh, I might know a guy who could maybe get you one back, an arm I mean.”

“What?”

“I, um, I can’t leave until basic is done, but I was kinda freakin’ out, you know. So, I was talking to one of the air force trainer guys, a pilot or somethin’, and he says he knows someone who is into mechanics and could maybe make you, like, a new arm.” 

“Who?” 

“Do you know who Tony Stark is?” 

“Everyone knows who Tony fucking Stark is, Steve.” 

“Yeah, uh, I guess. But, I happen to know his best friend. His name is Rhodey, well not really. That’s his last names because we’re, like, in the military, and they only use last names here. But, yeah, he says that Tony Stark will do it for you, if you want it of course.”

Bucky let out a wet laugh, and used the back of his hand to wipe some tears away. “It’s been seven hours since the accident, and I’ve only been awake for like forty minutes. And yet you already found a way to fix it, huh?” He joked. 

“Never was good at sitting still, you know,” Steve chuckled. It sounded forced, but it was better than none at all Bucky thought. “I-I was worried. I can’t be there, but I want to be. Figured I could find some help here, make myself useful.” 

“You’re somethin’ else, Stevie,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. There was a pause for a moment. “I miss you,” Bucky whispered. “And, I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“I know,” Steve responded. “Me, too. But, uh, I gotta go, as shitty as it is. Burrowed time from someone else’s phone time to make sure I could call when you woke up. But I gave Stark your number, and I’ll try to pull some favors and call tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that sounds alright,” Bucky responded. 

“Okay, well I love you, and I miss you. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Love you more.” 

Steve laughed. “I don’t know if that is possible, Buck. But I gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye, doll.” Bucky handed the phone back to Natasha before running his hand down his face. “Alright,” he started. “I got a plan. We ain’t gonna start a war with the Irish, not with me stuck like a lame duck in here. Call one of the Five Families for me. Who has that Abba guy? Oberto, I think.” Natasha dialed and handed him the phone. It rang for a few seconds before someone huffed in a greeting. “Oberto? It’s Barnes.” 

“Barnes the Irish or Barnes the fake Russian?” Came the reply.

“Funny,” Barnes tried not to let the sneer show in his voice. “But I’m actually completely Russian. Family changed the last name when immigrating to blend in more. But that ain’t important. I got a proposition for you.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“Buckley from the Irish came, Mafia, not the Mob, and threw me a deal about workin’ together on underground casinos right after Mullan from the Mob threw me a similar deal. But, ya know, casinos ain’t my thing. Heard you were lookin’ to get into that sort though, and since Abba and I are such _great_ friends, thought I’d throw it your way. But let me tell you, Mullan has a much better offer.” 

“Abba did you say?” 

“The one and only. We met when he came into my bar few years back. Really _nice_ fella, that Abba.” 

Bucky could hear the grumbling on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, alright. Send Mullan’s deal my way. We don’t work with the Mafia.” 

“Perfect,” he hung up the phone and then dialed the number for Buckley. When he heard an answer, “Buckley, it’s Barnes. How are you today?” He tried to sound sickly sweet. 

“Barnes? I heard you were in the hospital,” there was an edge of worry and perhaps annoyance seeping through the phone.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky mumbled. “Work is never done. I was going to call you earlier, but got into a car accident instead. Anyways, I was talkin’ to Oberto this mornin’, from the Five Families, you know, and he said he would take your deal. He’s much better suited for a casino ring than I am, so I hope there are no hard feelings from me turnin’ you down.” 

“No, no, none at all. Oberto is fine to work with,” was the reply. “You were in a car accident?” 

“Well, accident is a very liberal word. Somebody put a hit out on me.” 

“Really? Know who?” 

“My boys got some ideas, but I told them to hold off on ‘em for a bit. Let’s be sure we know who it is first and all,” Bucky responded. “Besides I ain’t the type to start wars over a little hit. I’m only really interested in a little revenge, not taking out all the Irish. But, I gotta go. Expect a call from Oberto, and you might want to snag him before Mullan can.” He hung up the phone quickly, and looked over to Natasha who just raised an eyebrow. “Call the boys we know from the mob. Let ‘em know the situation with Oberto, and say we’ll get in if they can get the Families to sign. If we’re startin’ a war, might as well not be one of the players.” 

“Are you suggesting we pull favors to pit the Irish Mafia against the Irish Mob over a casino ring? You know Buckley’s boys aren’t going to stand a chance.” 

“Golly, I knew you were the smart one,” Bucky smiled. 

Buckley was dead within two weeks, four aces and a joker found in his coat pocket. He was the only causality in the fight between the Mafia and the Mob, and the Irish Mafia sort of disappeared for a while after that. Bucky signed a deal for underground gambling rings that afternoon. He always did like the Mob better. 

***

Bucky ran his fingertips over Steve’s collarbone and down his chest. He had just returned from his last deployment, promising to retire after this one, and they have been enjoying the blissful two days he’s been home. Bucky circled his fingers around Steve’s naval before resting his hand on his hip and leaning in to nuzzle into his neck. 

“Too early, Buck,” Steve grumbled. 

Bucky chuckled softly. “It’s ten. That’s later than most people wake up.” 

“Jetlag,” Steve huffed, slipping an arm around Bucky’s back to get him to stop moving. It didn’t stop Bucky’s desire to breathe Steve in until he couldn’t possibly lose him again. Nine months was far too long to be away from each other he decided after his first deployment. Besides, Steve has new muscles and new scars and new everything for Bucky to map out, and he wasn’t the type to waste any time. 

“Go back to sleep then. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.” 

“You keep fidgetin’.” 

“Nah,” Bucky mouthed at his neck. “Just want to touch ya, babe. Gonna deny a man one of the simple pleasures of life?” He ran his hand back up his chest to emphasize his point.

“Pretty sure life’s simple pleasure ain’t touchin’ me. Otherwise I would have had a lot more suitors when we were younger,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky laughed into his skin. “Nah, I just got there first was all and beat them all off. You’re all mine now.”

He was planning on continuing his quest of touching every part of Steve’s skin and maybe thinking of a way to rile the other man up a little bit, but his phone rang. Steve groaned and flipped onto his stomach, sticking his face into his pillow. Bucky stared at his back, thinking about all the new skin he could touch and wondering if he could lick his way between freckles like connect a dot while he blindly reached for the phone. 

“Barnes,” he answered, trailing his fingers down Steve’s spine. He smirked when he saw the other man shiver. “I’m really quite busy at the moment, so whatever it is better be fuckin’ important.” 

“Busy screwin’ that fairy of yours?” 

“Orlov,” Bucky responded, trying to hide any signs that he was upset. That would wake Steve up and maybe make him get out of bed. Steve out of bed was the opposite of his plans for this morning. “To what do I owe the displeasure?” 

“You know why I called.”

Bucky switched to Russian, hoping to keep Steve content as he his fingers drew patterns into his shoulder blades. _”You’re probably calling to see if that shit assassination attempt worked. It didn’t. Is that all you needed? I really am quite busy.”_ He started nosing at Steve’s hairline as his hand wandered. 

_”I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”_

_”Please,”_ Bucky scoffed. He started to dip his hand under the sheet that was keeping Steve’s modesty, only to have it pulled back up by the other man. He saw Steve mouth the word ‘no’ with a twinkle in his eye. He nipped at his ear lobe in retaliation. _”You’ve been trying to out me ever since I became the head of the family four years ago. It’s not going to work.”_

_”You’re not part of the fucking family! You aren’t blood. You and that bitch only joined for fucking power. Don’t talk about family to me.”_

_”Blood or not, I am a part of the family. The boys are loyal to me, not you. Don’t you think you’re attempts to kill me would have worked if they actually wanted you as the Boss? If the boys are so loyal to blood, why did they come singing to me about your trips to the Japanese to outs me?”_ Bucky was getting bored of this conversation. He was much more interested in the way Steve seemed to be completely awake now. He wanted to suck a hickey under Steve’s jaw. 

_”No one told you shit.”_

_”But yet, the Japanese couldn’t even touch me. You think I just get lucky every time you send someone?”_ Steve rolled onto his back, and Bucky quickly took the chance to straddle his hips. Steve blinked up at him, but his hands still came up to the other man’s hips, holding him steady.

_”I’ll kill you myself, Barnes.”_

Bucky suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. _”You won’t, not because lack of trying, but only because you can’t. No one is going to help you, and even if you unlikely succeeded, you won’t have anyone in the family loyal to you. They like the way I run things. They have more money and more power now than they ever did, and the Russian name has more respect than ever before. You’ll be the Boss for maybe a day or two before someone takes you out.”_ Bucky ran his thumb over Steve’s jawline up to his cheek bones. He’s too damn pretty for his own good, he thought. _”And I really don’t take threats lightly. You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood right now, otherwise I would kill you myself. But instead, you should expect a visit from Natasha and her boys. They might go easy if you beg pretty enough.”_ He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the nightstand. 

“What was that about?” Steve muttered, eyelids dropping again. 

“Oh,” Bucky smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “We were just talking about how pretty you are.” 

Steve laughed and punched his metal arm, the one Steve got for him, lightly. “Why you bein’ so sweet this morning? You want somethin’?”

“Hm,” Bucky hummed. “I could think of a few things.” 

***

Bucky was sitting in a fancy restaurant, glaring at the man in front of him. He would have vaulted across the table and killed him with a butter knife if it wasn’t going to rip out the stiches in his chest. He was wondering why Natasha had told the waitress a table for four when there were only supposed to be three. _”Natasha, you better explain very quickly why Clint Barton is sitting in front of me,”_ he growled at her in Russian. 

_”He’s come to give you a proposal. Thought it would be best in a public place to make sure you didn’t try to murder him,”_ she responded with a sweet smile. Bucky knew it was fake. She was just making sure Barton didn’t think anything was wrong, and Bucky wondered if he really was dumb enough to fall for it. 

_”I might still try,”_ he sneered. “Barton, you have two minutes before I kill you.” 

“Kill me?” Barton feigned innocence. “Why would you want to do that? I’m only asking for a job in your great, no _wonderful_ , organization.” 

“Trying to assassinate me with a bow and fuckin’ arrow, which I am still recovering from, by the way, was not the best way to put in an application,” Bucky scoffed. “Sorry, but I don’t usually hire people who have tried to kill me, and even if I were to make an exception, I especially don’t hire people who work with the fuckin’ Dutch, of all people. Have some standards, man.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Barton rolled his eyes. “The Dutch aren’t exactly my go-to either, but I had bills to be paid. Besides, I was the closest one to ever actually kill you. That’s gotta count for something, right?” 

Bucky really wanted to stab him, like really, really wanted to. “You fucking idiot-“

“Steve!” Natasha stood up with a smile as the man in question walked over to the table. He smiled brightly at her and kissed her cheeks. Bucky couldn’t help but think that his suit made him look completely edible, but that didn’t help the fact that he wanted to _murder Barton_. “Look, boys,” Natasha continued to smile at the table. “Steve’s here. We’re only on our best behavior when Steve is here, aren’t we?” She glared at Bucky.

He rolled his eyes at her as he kissed his husband quickly, saying hello. _“I know you only invited him so I would hire the guy you’re sleeping with. It’s not going to work. I don’t do everything he says,”_ Bucky muttered to her in Russian, knowing Steve wouldn’t understand.

_”Everyone knows that you’re in a much better mood when Steve is around, much more agreeable, and I didn’t exactly have plans to spend the night in jail because you wanted to kill someone in public. Besides, whoever said I was sleeping with Barton?”_

_”Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look for you,”_ he scoffed. She just smiled. 

“Hi, I’m Steve, Bucky’s husband,” Steve reached out to Clint to shake his hand. Barton raised an eyebrow, but quickly took the hand. 

“Clint Barton,” he said. “I’m currently seeking employment with your husband.” He flashed a grin at Bucky that he knew was trouble instantly. 

“Oh, really? Well, that must be quite the task. Don’t think he would even hire me,” Steve responded, flipping through the menu. Barton laughed, and Bucky wanted to pull his teeth out.

An hour and two courses later, Barton had Steve and Natasha in hysterics over stories about working in the circus, of all fucking places, and all Bucky wanted to do was sit and sulk in the corner. He can’t fucking believe Natasha won, and by playing dirty, too. He wasn’t going to fucking budge, he decided. No matter how much Steve liked Barton, no fucking way was Barton getting a job with him. Bucky wasn’t completely under Steve’s spell. 

Two days later, Barton was begrudgingly offered him a _probation_ level position after Steve mentioned how much fun he had at dinner. Natasha smirked about it for days. 

***

“I think that I happen to be a very forgiving man, Mr. Bauer. I like to think it’s due to my impeccable self-restraint,” Bucky said as he pulled on some leather gloves. He walked around the man in question. Alain Bauer was a meek, little man. His glasses were a little too big for his face, and his head was a little too small for his body. Overall, he wasn’t very impressive, even less so when he was tied to a chair in the basement of Bucky’s office building. “But, when people threaten my organization, the way you have, I find my self-restraint slipping.” 

“I-I-I didn’t d-do anything,” he stuttered out.

Bucky hummed. “No, of course not. You just told the NYPD where to find some stolen munitions, right?” The man didn’t respond. Bucky continued. “Well, you see, those munitions were mine, well, I guess not mine exactly. They were stolen after all, but for all intents and purposes, they belonged to me. And because they belonged to me, the NYPD could trace it back to me. I don’t particularly like the NYPD, Mr. Bauer.” 

“I didn’t know!” He cried out. 

Bucky threw a careful punch to the nose, not to break, but just to cause some blood and a little pain. He was a bleeder, Bucky realized. This could be fun. “Didn’t know what?” He growled. “That the case was mine or that the NYPD was on my tail?” 

“I-I…” 

“You best start singing like you did to the cops, Bauer, or this day is going to get a whole lot worse for you,” Bucky emphasized his point with a couple more hits to the face, and a slash of a knife to the ribs. “I know you’ve been workin’ with the Irish boys, and I gotta tell you, those guys really aren’t my favorite people. So, did they put you up to this or not?” 

“N-No, Mr. Barnes, I-I would never go against you like that, you know that!”

“Do I now?” Bucky took out some plyers and thought about which nail was the first to go. He decided the middle ones, just for the symbolism. Alain started screaming. God, he hates when they wail like banshees. “There are consequences for you actions, Mr. Bauer. You must not have thought of that when you snitched. Now tell me who sent you to the NYPD.” 

He was going to move on to the ring finger next when someone busted in. “I thought I said I was to not be disturbed,” he barked to whoever it was. 

“Steve’s here,” Barton said back. “Nat told me to tell you and to tell you that she could finish if you wanted.” 

“Steve’s here? Why is Steve here?” Bucky turned around, taking his gloves off and throwing them on the table with his tools. Barton shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Send Nat down. He in my office?” Barton nodded and then left. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Mr. Bauer,” he said over his shoulder as he left. 

“You can’t have dogs in this building, Steve,” Bucky said, frowning down at Winter. The dog was some sort of pointer or something like that. Steve told him, he just couldn’t bother with listening. All he tells people is that the dog is brown, and that about sums up how much he knows about it. 

“He’s a service animal,” Steve replied. “They’re technically allowed everywhere. And, you own the building, so you would basically be outlawing your own dog right now.” 

“Your dog, not mine.” 

“Oh, come on,” Steve huffed. “I see you cuddled up with Winter on the couch every time I come home late, so don’t bother. Besides, look at this face. How can you hate this face?” Steve started talking to the dog for the last part, messing with his ears. 

“You shouldn’t baby him. He’ll get away with everything then.” 

“Well, you get away with everything, and I certainly didn’t baby you when we first met.” Bucky could tell that Steve wanted to stick his tongue out at him. Mature, he thought. 

“Why did you bring Winter here anyways?” Bucky asked. 

“Well, you know how the landlord said that everyone had to be out of their apartments because they had to fumigate?” Bucky nodded mumbling about it really was time the two bought a house of their own. “Well, I didn’t think it would be a big deal because I could just hang out with Winter at the park or something, but the realtor called and said she had a perfect place for the art gallery.”

“So, no dog.” 

“Right.” 

“And, what did you want me to do about that?” Bucky frowned again, knowing where this conversation was going. “No, nu-uh, I am not keeping the dog all day. He is your dog. You are supposed to take care of him.”

“Thanks so much, dear,” Steve gave him a sweet smile. “I knew I could count on you. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He smacked a kiss onto Bucky’s cheek before running out the door. 

“Steve, I am a business man! A very _professional_ business man! I cannot be havin’ a puppy when doing my business things!” Bucky called after him with no luck. He looked down at the dog who just stared back up at him. The dog didn’t seem to have any more answers than he did right now. “Don’t shit on the rug.” The dog just cocked his head. Bucky sighed. 

***

Natasha was currently sitting at Bucky’s desk, glaring down at the floor, while Bucky was pacing around the room. “There has got to be a way,” she muttered to him. “We could just kill him.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure that will look really good. Hey Mr. Police Man, no we certainly did not kill the maybe informant you had on us. However do you think that happened?” Bucky mocked. “We can’t kill ‘im.” 

“Can’t kill who?” 

Bucky and Natasha’s heads whipped over to the door where Steve was standing looking between the two of them. “Steve, what did we say about sneaking up on Mafia bosses?” Natasha asked.

“Uh, to avoid it,” Steve shrugged. “Bucky knew I was coming to pick him up for dinner, so don’t give me another talk, alright?” 

“Sorry, doll,” Bucky sighed. “We got a situation. Don’t think we can catch dinner tonight.” 

“Anything I can help with?” 

Bucky was about to decline when Natasha interrupted. “Actually-“

“Nat, do not get him involved,” Bucky warned. 

“What, like being married to you isn’t enough? Your boy is pretty smart. A new head in this might help, and we certainly don’t want Barton comin’ up with the plans.”

Bucky shuddered at the thought. “Fine,” he grumbled. Steve sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

“Someone is going to assassinate Bucky and me,” Natasha explained briefly. 

“Do you know why? And who?” Steve asked with some alarm. 

“His name is Andrew Reagan. He’s part of the Irish mafia that we thought took down a years ago. We think this is his way of getting revenge on us for making his organization … disappear for a little while.” 

“You took down the- You know what, never mind. Not important. So, he’s just gonna try and kill you guys for taking down his mob?” 

“Mafia, not mob. The difference is important,” Bucky corrected. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Seems like it. There was some chatter in the _mafia_ that Reagan was trying to get his boys back together again, and there is no better way to get power than taking someone else’s. He might try and take over our neighborhoods,” Natasha explained. “And he can only take them over if we happen to be dead.”

“And you can’t just kill him?” Steve asked. He suddenly looked around the room, like he was surprised. “Oh my god, what has my life come to where that is a normal statement I have to make?” Bucky couldn’t help but snort, and then shrug when Steve glared. 

“Well, he also was seen talking to the FBI a few days ago. He was brought in on some prostitution charges or something, and there is some chatter that he got out because he was singin’,” Bucky responded. 

“I realize that you guys are literally part of the mafia, but can we please try to avoid talking like a mobster movie from the 50’s?” Steve asked. It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes, and Steve kicked at him. “So, what? You can’t kill him because that will lead the FBI to you, but you can’t not kill him because he’s going to try and kill you?” 

“Exactly,” Natasha sighed. “We’ve got to discredit him or something. Make it so the FBI doesn’t want his information anymore. Maybe get one of the other organizations to off him before he has the chance to talk.” 

They all paused for a second, and Bucky resumed his pacing. 

“ _Hypothetically_ ,” Steve started, and Bucky immediately groaned, throwing his hands in the air. Steve kicked at him again. “If he was thrown in jail for some really bad charges, like attempted murder perhaps, would that make it so the FBI didn’t want to talk to him anymore?” 

Natasha glanced over at Bucky, who looked right back at her. “Keep going,” she said, leaning forward. 

“Well, we just have to catch him trying to … murder one of you two,” Steve said with some weariness. “And then he gets thrown in jail for probably 10 to 15 for attempted murder, right? The FBI isn’t gonna trust any information he gave them about you two because he just tried to kill you guys, so the information is invalidated. And if there is talk about him bein’ an informant, then there is bound to be some organizations that can … get rid of him on the inside for you.” 

Natasha and Bucky exchanged looks again.

“Alright, we’ll bite,” Bucky said, flopping into the chair next to Steve. “How do we get him arrested?” 

“Well, how do they like to kill? Knife? Gun? Sniper? Beating? Poison? Car bomb? Choking? The list goes on.”

Bucky peered over at his husband with a strange look. “Why do you know so many ways to kill people?” Steve gave him a flat look. 

“They like the fear factor,” Natasha interrupted. “They usually kill in front of other people for the shock value, and they try to go unseen. They stay away from cameras and all of that, so it looks like someone was talking to a shadow before they die. But if they don’t and someone does see, they threaten the witnesses to make sure they don’t talk.”

Steve nodded and looked down at the ground. “Hm, I have an idea.” 

“It sounds like I’m not going to like it,” Bucky mumbled mostly to himself. 

“Bucky’s not going to like it,” Steve said louder, looking over with the corners of his mouth perked up. 

“Oh no, nu-uh, no sir. You used to give me that same exact look when you were tellin’ me you had bullies on the ropes, when you most certainly did not! Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you dare do this to me again!” 

“Rogers-Barnes. The difference is important,” Steve smirked. “Besides, I’m not going to tell you the entire plan. It would ruin the surprise.” 

He hated him, Bucky decided. He most certainly hated the man he was madly in love with in every single fiber of his being, and he has no idea how he ended up standing at Steve’s art show, in his nice suit, waiting to be murdered. Oh wait, he does know how, and it was fucking Steve Rogers. He hated him. 

“Relax, dear,” Steve mumbled, as he glided up behind him. “You’re supposed to be enjoying a night at your husband’s gallery while he is showcasing a new artist. They’re gonna know something isn’t right if you’re tense all night. You don’t even have the much too expensive champagne I bought for tonight.” A flute magically appeared in front of him, and Bucky took it with a grumble. 

“I’m sorry if waitin’ around to be offed isn’t my idea of a nice night. Besides I don’t even know what’s gonna go down. I’ve never been out of the loop, sugar. It ain’t a place I like to be.” 

Steve’s hand come up to the small of Bucky’s back. “It will be fine. You trust me doncha?” Bucky glared but nodded. “So just relax, and enjoy some art. I have this all handled.” Bucky downed the champagne before stalking over near Natasha. 

“This doens’ make your skin crawl?” He asked her as she looked over some abstract painting. It had a lot of green in it. Bucky was sure there was some deeper meaning, but he couldn’t find himself to care. 

“The representation of the upper classes demobilization of the workers really is sickening. I would hope anyone who sees this piece would agree,” Natasha mused, sipping her drink. 

“I ‘ave no idea how you can blend in so well with any crowd,” Bucky responded. 

Natasha shrugged. “You don’t know what I did before I came to New York.”

“As you remind me constantly.” 

Natasha eyed him before turning back to the piece in front of her. “Relax. Your boy’s got this under control.” 

“I know,” Bucky sighed.

He wondered around for half an hour, looking at all the art. He didn’t understand most of it, and when he listened to what some people were saying about it, he just really couldn’t see it. Steve always did say that he knew nothing about art. 

Bucky finally found a piece he could understand, a simple charcoal drawing of the New York skyline. Now that, he got. He didn’t have to search for any hidden meaning behind it. He just knew. That was New York. He looked down at the artist’s name and couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Of course, he thought. The one piece he likes in the gallery, and it’s Steve’s. 

He stood in front of the drawing for a few more minutes when he felt someone come up behind him. “Don’t move,” a man said to him. Bucky felt something stick into his back. A gun, he mused. That certainly was different. He thought it was going to be a knife. 

“This is a beautiful piece, isn’t it gentlemen?” Steve asked as he came to stand right next to the man behind Bucky. “Were you interested, Mr….?” 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky warned. 

“Get outta ‘ere, if you know what’s good for you,” the man threatened to Steve. The gun was no longer pressed against his back, so no doubt it was being pointed at his husband right about now. 

There was a pause. A pause that Bucky knew very well. It was the moment Steve was deciding which way he was going to go with, fight or flight. Except Bucky knew something that this man didn’t. Steve never chose flight. 

Bucky spun around quick enough to swing an arm around the man’s neck while Steve pushed the hand holding the gun to the ground. It fired, cracking the stone in its path. Bucky could hear people screaming around him. Steve used the kickback of the gun to throw his elbow down on the man’s wrist, and caught the gun out of the air where it dropped. While Bucky was switching to an effective choke hold, Steve took apart what looked like a M1911 pistol. 

“Hands above your head, now!” Multiple people seemed to scream from around Bucky all at once. He dropped the choke hold like a fucking hot potato and put his hands above his head, trying to steady his breathing. The FBI were surrounding him, he thought. When the fuck did the FBI get there? This was not going to end well. 

“Bucky, come stand behind me,” Steve said calmly, still holding the taken apart guy in his hand. Bucky threw him a questioning look, but still did as he said. 

A woman came up and cuffed who Bucky could now see was Reagan himself. He didn’t think he was going to do his own dirty work. If he was smart, he wouldn’t have even tried, but Bucky could understand the thrill of it, he guessed. As she started hauling Reagan off, he spit down at Bucky’s shoe, and all Bucky did was glare. 

An agent walked up to them with a somewhat disappointed look. “Steve, always good to see you,” he said. “But, I have to wish it was under better circumstances tonight.” 

“Agent Fitz,” Steve responded as he handed over the gun. “I certainly do agree with that. But, it seems that the plan worked perfectly fine given the situation. By the way Fitz, this is my husband Bucky. Buck this is Agent Fitz, head of the team I’ve been consulting with these past few months.”

Bucky blinked for a few seconds before faking recognition. “Right Agent Fitz, I’ve heard so much about your team.”

“All good things I hope.” 

“You know Steve. Guy never has a mean thing to say. Wish we could’ve met under better terms.”

“As do I, but uh, I gotta tape off the crime scene. I’ll see you both in a few minutes for your witness statements,” Agent Fitz said before walking off. Bucky and Steve stalked off into the corner.

Bucky gave it about thirty seconds before whipping over to face Steve. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck just happened?” He hissed. 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “The plan,” he stated like Bucky was an idiot.

“And your plan was to have the FBI here the entire time? You couldn’t have warned your literal mafia boss husband about that little fact? And what were you talking about consulting? You don’t consult. You own a gallery. This gallery. What’s going on?” Bucky whispered harshly. 

“Calm down,” Steve sighed. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Bucky hissed again. “That always gives me the opposite reaction. See? I am not calming down. This is not how I calm.”

“Bucky,” Steve started. “We caught Reagan red handed in the murder attempt of an FBI consultant’s husband in a very crowded art gallery. He was carrying a firearm that he most likely does not have a permit for, and the FBI were monitoring the whole thing, so there won’t even need to be a long lengthy court case. He’s going straight to jail.” 

“Why were the FBI here?”

“I’ve been working with their urban terror department for a few months, which I definitely told you about. Never listen to anything I say, I swear,” Steve rolled his eyes but continued. “They called a few years after I retired and said that they needed help planning extraction and detention of terrorists high on the watch list, and I told them I would help make plans but no way was I goin’ back into the field. 

“I asked Natasha to spread around some chatter that there was going to be a hit being made at the gallery tonight. Somethin’ about how a high profile murder would gain a lot of respect in the underworld for some new Mob king-king-boss-thing. Some people in the building speculated in could be me because of my history with the force and now the Bureau. Fitz figured all this out, so the urban terror department took it over from the gang department to, like, keep me safe, I guess. That part was purely accidently. I thought I was going to get an undercover NYPD at the very most, not an entire FBI team.”

“So now the FBI has Reagan in custody, and … and what exactly?” 

“So now the FBI has Reagan in custody, and he’s going to go to federal prison where I’m sure he will make _lots_ of friends. And the FBI will no longer be looking into you or Natasha for organization stuff because you just helped them catch the head of the Irish mafia/mob thing. Not to mention you’re husbands with someone who helps catch criminals in his free time.”

“You got the FBI off my back,” Bucky muttered stunned. “You got the FBI off my back before they ever were even on my back.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You always were fixin’ my problems for me,” Bucky mumbled, pulling Steve over to him by the tie. Steve shrugged again with a smile pulling at his lips. “When did you get so smart, huh?” 

“Buck,” Steve chuckled. “You know, I was one of the best military strategists in the army by the time I left. That’s part of the reason it was so damn hard to retire. How did you think I got to be Captain so young?” 

“Would I be an ass if I said it was because you’re dashingly handsome?” Steve laughed again. “So how _did_ you get so smart, huh? I don’ remember you winnin’ any fights before you shipped off, not exactly a the makings of a master strategist.” 

Steve looked to the ground. “You remember that fight we had before I shipped off to basic?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered with a sudden interest in the ground as well. 

“I, well, I thought about what you said, about how I was shippin’ off just to be another one of their expendable weapons, you know.”

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky shook his head. “You know I didn’ mean that. I was just scared is all. I never meant to say somethin’ like that.” 

“Yeah, well,” Steve kicked at the ground. “I still thought about it, and I figured you were kinda right. A kid like me, ready to do whatever to help, no way was going to last too long. They would put me on all the shit missions because they knew I wasn’t going to say no. So, I just kinda decided to make myself not expendable, you know. Started workin’ smarter instead of harder. And suddenly my crazy ideas started workin’ and they gave me my own team. And by the time it all caught up to me, I was in the desert for four out of the five years we had been married. Didn’ seem worth it anymore.” 

“Stevie-“

“So, I decided to quit, but I still wanted to help people. And the FBI called with glowin’ recommendations from one of my superiors and said they could use a man like me, and I told ‘em that I was runnin’ an art gallery of all things and couldn’t do it. And they said it was fine with ‘em, and I could just come in every once and a while and look at some files and tell them how I would catch the guys if I were still overseas.”

“You still miss it,” Bucky stated. 

Steve shrugged again. “Yeah, sometimes. I don’t know. I was good at what I did over there, but after a while, didn’t know who I was fightin’ for anymore. And I missed you too damn much for my own good.”

Bucky laughed. “How did I get lucky enough to call you my best guy for this long?” 

“Pretty sure it’s because you beat up anyone else who would ask me out,” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky admitted. “Worth it though. So worth it.” Bucky turned back over to the drawing that he was looking at earlier. “So tell me, Mr. Art gallery owner, how much is that one? I have the perfect place for it.” 

“That one?” Steve asked. “You’ll never be able to afford that artist’s price, but maybe if I put in a good word, he’ll negotiate with ya.” Bucky couldn’t help but smirk.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're at all interested in beta-ing a mess of a 16k fic that I have been writing for about a year now at all, please message me here on A03 or on my [tumblr](http://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also just feel free to come talk to me on either site. i'm always looking for writing and stucky friends :)


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